


for tomorrow and tomorrow

by magumarashi



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.3 spoilers, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Viera Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), other characters cameo briefly enough that i dont feel like tagging em
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27354421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magumarashi/pseuds/magumarashi
Summary: Aoife Asturmaux has averted the Eighth Umbral Calamity, saved the First from complete annihilation, and triumphed over the last of the unsundered Ascians. All that remains now is to keep one final promise...
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok I know they purposely didn't show the WoL retrieving G'raha from the tower bc it would be more meaningful for players to imagine how that goes themselves, but also, no one is allowed to blame me for doing exactly that,
> 
> Finally got around to pouring my post 5.3 juice into something and it ended up longer than expected lmao.... but I had such a good time thinking about all that went unsaid in the "Some days later..." transition that I kept adding more and more.
> 
> For additional context, my WoL is a Viera named Aoife Asturmaux. (Her first name is pronounced "Eefa".) I put her backstory on [the Lodestone](https://na.finalfantasyxiv.com/lodestone/character/27819823/) so I won't repeat it here; I don't think much of it is relevant to this particular fic but I always like to link it just in case. Also I managed not to make references to any of my previous xiv fics for once!

_As a child I used to read faerie tales of knights and rogues. Of a maiden slumbering at the top of a high tower, and the prince’s kiss that woke her…_

The inner halls of the Crystal Tower were silent as the grave, save only for the dissonant _clack_ of Aoife’s Viis-made sandals on the luminous floors. Once the Dossal Gate opened to admit her, would have to find the room where her friend lay in slumber—and though the tower had countless rooms and chambers, only one seemed the most likely resting place. Heart pounding in her chest, she climbed the now-familiar stairs to the reception hall that, on the First, had been called the Ocular.

But it was not this room itself that she sought, for it was indeed empty. To the right of the entrance was a door leading to a smaller room: the Umbilical, which in another world had served as private chambers for the Crystal Exarch. On the Source, it was as much a private chamber as a prison cell: its sole inhabitant locked in eternal slumber behind its doors. Aoife tried the handle, expecting to be met with a lock she’d have to find some way to break, but instead found that the door gave way easily to admit her. She gently pushed it the rest of the way open.

Aoife wasn’t prepared for the sight that awaited her. On the First, the Exarch’s chambers had been fashioned into a scholar’s cluttered living space, with simple furnishings and books strewn around haphazardly for lack of shelves to put them on. This version of the room had no such comforts: it was stark and bare, save for a throne-like chair that had been built into the far wall. Curled up on the seat, tail wrapped around his legs, was the slumbering form of G’raha Tia.

Her heart pinched at first, to see him again—to see him how she remembered him, with bright hair and limbs intact. But the ravages of time did not escape her notice, either: he looked wan and thin, and his hair fell long and loose around his shoulders. If this was how he looked after just a few years asleep in the tower, she shuddered to think of how he might have looked when the others found him after two centuries… 

She had little time to spare for reflecting. Aoife approached him with the soul crystal in hand, heart pounding. Remembering what Krile had done to revive the Scions some time earlier, she took the vessel containing the Crystal Exarch’s soul and memories from her pocket and gently set it down near his head before taking a cautious step back. The vessel began to glow, faintly, as the contents recognized their form. Aoife watched for a few minutes with bated breath, and before too long the soul crystal dimmed once more.

G’raha Tia remained still.

Fear gripped her immediately. Had it worked? Had the Exarch recognized his younger self, or did something go wrong…? She gave him a few more seconds before panic set in, and she knelt down to try to rouse him by hand.

“Raha…?”

Even after a few gentle nudges, the Miqo’te gave no response. Aoife stared at him in disbelief.

_No. No, no, no… not after everything we’ve done…! Raha, please…!!_

She gave him a more vigorous shake, but his body simply flopped around as limply as a child’s doll. She tried clapping her hand to his cheek a few times, but this too was met with no success. He simply wouldn’t wake. She pounded a fist onto the crystal seat in frustration, sending a resounding _thunk_ echoing in the empty chamber.

“Wake _up_ , damn you…!”

Aoife Asturmaux was not usually given to despair, but the thought that her friend’s careful plans had failed in the end—that she wouldn’t be able to keep her promise, that they’d never see each other again in her lifetime—was enough to drive the strength from her body. She lifted his limp form into her arms and held him close to her chest. His skin was warm, at least, and his chest moved as he breathed. He yet lived, but… 

_Please… please wake up…!_

Aoife tilted his head back and brushed his hair from his eyes, hoping for a better look at his face that she might catch any sign of consciousness in his features. He looked peaceful in his sleep. At any other time she would have been content to watch him doze, knowing that he well deserved the rest. But now… 

She almost couldn’t help herself, but she had nothing left to lose.

Aoife lifted his head and gently pressed her lips to his.

_If this is to be the last time, then… let me feel your warmth, just for a little longer…_

As she held him close, a light grunt reached her ears:

“Mmh…?”

Aoife almost dropped him.

_“Raha!!”_

It was a fortune that she managed to maintain her grip on him, but her voice came out louder than she intended. The Miqo’te scrunched his face in discomfort at the sudden noise.

“Aoife…?” G’raha Tia slowly came to. He opened his eyes, though it seemed to take him a while to register his surroundings before he finally turned his head to look at her. “What are you doing here…?”

“W-what do you mean, _what am I doing here?”_ Aoife responded, trying and failing to keep her voice even. “Raha… do you remember _anything_ of the last three hundred years?”

Though his ears twitched at the mention of his name, G’raha frowned at first—as anyone would upon hearing that three hundred years had gone by while they slept. He seemed to consider this for a little, and glanced off to the side as though struggling to recall memories just out of reach. His expression softened after a time.

“I remember now…” he said distantly. He looked back up at her, a smile on his lips. “Then… it worked, just as I knew it would.”

Aoife let out a sigh of relief.

“You had me worried, you know,” she said, wearily putting a hand to her forehead. “I tried everything I could to wake you, but nothing seemed to help…”

“Nothing but true love’s kiss, I take it?”

Aoife smiled awkwardly and looked away, cheeks burning.

“I… listen…”

“Not to say that I didn’t enjoy waking up to a kiss from the Warrior of Light,” said G’raha, smile widening into a cheeky grin. “In fact, since I’m still feeling somewhat drowsy—you wouldn’t have another to spare, would you?”

_“G’raha Tia!”_

G’raha laughed, his voice echoing in the empty chamber. Aoife didn’t think she’d ever heard him laugh like this before; at least not in a long time. It made her heart dance to see him like this—where the Crystal Exarch had been calm and reserved, G’raha Tia now seemed to have regained a playful spark of youth to accompany his renewed body. As though the heavy burdens he’d been carrying all this time had finally eased… 

“Of _course_ you may have another,” said Aoife quietly. “As many as you want, even…”

She bent her head, and G’raha sat up slightly to meet her lips. How much sweeter he tasted now that he could return her kiss—she almost felt bad for having so selfishly stolen a kiss while he slept. 

“Can you stand?” Aoife asked, gently.

“I… I’m not sure,” G’raha responded. “Before, when the others found me I could barely lift a finger—my muscles had all but atrophied in my two hundred years of sleep. I’ve not been asleep quite that long now, but…” He lifted a hand with great effort, and weakly opened and closed his fingers. “It seems I’ll be needing some assistance.”

“Happy to provide,” said Aoife, grinning—she stood up, lifting him as effortlessly as ever. She noted that his body felt much lighter than she was used to; perhaps due to malnourishment, or perhaps the fact that his limbs were all flesh and blood instead of heavy crystal. Either way, she would have to use the skills she’d picked up at the Bismarck to cook something up for him once they returned to Mor Dhona. (She didn’t consider herself an _accomplished_ cook by any means, but she could make miq'abobs well enough, and that would have to suffice.) While the homebody life hadn’t always appealed to her, she couldn’t help lingering on the thought of gently nursing him back to health with homemade meals… 

G’raha let out a contented sigh, leaning into her shoulder. 

“‘tis good to be awake…” he said, quietly.

“Mm,” Aoife agreed, nuzzling the top of his head. “Let’s get you home, Raha. Everyone’s waiting for us back at the Rising Stones.”

“Yes…” G’raha trailed off, seeming to consider what she’d said. Finally, he looked back up at her and gave a warm nod. “Let’s go home.”


	2. Chapter 2

_ Home. _

She’d said it without thinking, really. It didn’t quite make sense under scrutiny—she didn’t know where exactly G’raha considered “home,” and the now-unreachable Crystarium seemed as like to be his home as not. She herself had homes away from home throughout Eorzea, across the seas, and even on other worlds. And yet, there almost wasn’t any other word to describe their destination. At journey’s end, the two now made their way back to the place where their friends were waiting for them with warm hearths and soft beds. A place where they could finally earn their rest, and spend idle time in each other’s company relatively free of worry… If that wasn’t the meaning of “home,” then what was?

At Aoife’s request, Tataru and Krile had prepared a bed in one of the Rising Stones’ private rooms for G’raha’s use. The other Scions were content to share the Dawn’s Respite while they regained their strength, but Aoife had guessed (correctly) that the Miqo’te would want for some additional privacy. She wasn’t sure whether it was out of modesty or vanity, but G’raha seemed to not want the others to see him in his weakened state—his hair messy around his shoulders, body gaunt and feeble. Perhaps it was a stark reminder of just how close they’d come to losing him for good, and he didn’t want to make them worry any more than he already had. 

In a way, they were right to worry: he’d lost so much muscle mass over his years in slumber that he had difficulty standing and moving around. Aoife was all too happy to be the one tasked with his recovery, helping him with the regimen of stretches prescribed by the local chirurgeon (magic could heal open wounds well enough, but there was little it could do for weakness). She made sure he changed into fresh clothes in the morning and evening, and carried him to the privy and back despite his insistence that he could make the short trip on his own. She even fed him for the first couple of meals, spoonful by spoonful, as he couldn’t hold his hand steady enough with the weight of the spoon to keep from spilling. Aoife was glad she’d arranged for him to have a room to himself, if perhaps a bit selfishly—this way she could spend ample time by his side, and wouldn’t have to catch snide remarks from the other Scions concerning how much she fawned over him. In any other circumstance she might have been embarrassed to take to such domestic work so quickly, but some part of her felt that the task of taking care of him should belong to no one else but her. Were the roles reversed, and  _ she _ had been the one requiring special care, she had no doubt that G’raha would have bent over backwards to ensure her comfort. 

Even outside of his physical recovery, there was much and more to be done to prepare G'raha for his return to Eorzean daily life. Aoife’s first summons was for Jandelaine, whose acquaintance she’d made some time ago but whose services she had yet to employ. While somewhat dismayed that she was not making the call for herself, the aesthetician was not about to turn down good work, and with Aoife’s mammets for reference he set about taming G’raha’s overgrown locks into a style more reminiscent of the usual. (Jandelaine of course offered several more adventurous styles to try at first, all of which G’raha politely declined. They at last reached a compromise when the aesthetician used a few pins to get G’raha’s hair out of his face temporarily, and G’raha liked the look enough to keep them.)

Once his hair had been dealt with, Tataru was eager to get him some new clothes; the gear he’d brought back from the tower was long out of style. She took his measurements before rushing off to the markets to browse current trends, then came back with designs and ideas to see what tickled his fancy. Having worn much the same outfit on the First for hundreds of years, G’raha was initially keen to return to the comfort of a mage’s robe—perhaps with brass plating or accessories on one arm to simulate the weight of his crystal limb while he adjusted to life without it. Tataru talked him down from this, adamantly insisting he go for something more practical. (“How do you expect to keep up with Aoife in a robe? She’ll be running and jumping everywhere, and you’ll be just as like to trip over your own feet!”) Eventually they, too, reached a compromise: Tataru put together an outfit that incorporated visual elements from his Exarch robes while allowing for ample freedom of movement, and G’raha was allowed to add as many little baubles as he wanted.

The next item on the table was to get him equipped with a weapon, as G’raha had chosen to abandon the bow he’d taken with him into the Crystal Tower. Though he once had considerable skill as an archer, he had taken up magecraft in his years on the First for practical reasons: he’d been completely unable to draw his bow when the Ironworks descendants first awakened him. Time was of the essence, and it was quicker to simply learn how to wield magic than it would have been to recondition his body for archery. He’d become skilled in a number of disciplines in the years since, but now felt more comfortable wielding a mage’s staff than he ever had a bow. Thus the weapon that Tataru had commissioned for him was a mid-sized staff, with a piece chipped from the Crystal Tower serving as its focus. It was perhaps a bit flashier than he would have liked, but he warmed to it considerably once Aoife showed him that she had picked up a matching lance during her travels in the First.

Even after a few unexpectedly busy days, Aoife could tell that their efforts were paying off. G’raha grew stronger each day, able to handle more and more tasks by himself. By the end of the second day he was able to eat without assistance, and he was carefully walking the halls of the Rising Stones by the fifth (though still pointedly avoiding the Dawn’s Respite, to the extent that it made Aoife wonder whether he was waiting for Tataru to finish sewing his new clothes so that he could make some kind of grand entrance to announce his recovery. Considering his theatrics in the First, she wouldn’t have put it past him). While he seemed to have regained most of his motor function, he was still easily exhausted—he’d spent so long borrowing from the tower’s endless reserves of energy, he’d forgotten how not to overextend himself. He spent many an afternoon napping under Aoife’s careful watch, and in the evenings more often than not he would retire early to sleep.

One night, as the lamps burned low in the main hall and the other Scions were starting to disperse for the night, Krile and Tataru noticed it had been some time since they’d last seen Aoife. She usually came out to the main hall once G’raha had fallen asleep, and would spend a couple of hours chatting with the others and telling stories of her adventures on the First. It was passing strange that the evening had come and gone without any sign of her.

Krile made her way first to the Dawn’s Respite, thinking the Warrior of Light might have spent her evening there instead, but she didn’t notice any rabbit ears in her visual scan of the room. She asked directly if any of the Scions present had seen her, but they all responded with shaking heads and quizzical frowns.

Krile’s next stop was G’raha’s room, which in hindsight she supposed she should have checked first. The two were nigh inseparable, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if they were getting up to trouble now that the Miqo’te had more of his strength back. It would have been only natural after such an ordeal, and she hardly blamed them—but at the same time, she felt Aoife would do well to remember that her partner did still need to rest, younger body notwithstanding. After thinking of something witty to admonish them with, Krile gave several firm knocks and, receiving no immediate answer, carefully pushed the door open. 

The room beyond was quiet save for the sound of gentle snores. A dying lamp illuminated two motionless forms on the far side: G’raha seemed to have nodded off sitting up in bed with a book in his lap, while Aoife had fallen asleep in her bedside chair, bent over such that she could use his legs as a pillow. It was all Krile could do to keep from laughing lest she wake them.  _ And to think I assumed they were having a tumble in here… _

Krile took one of the folded blankets on the end of the bed and spread it over Aoife’s back as best she could. She then blew out the lamp for them and took her leave, closing the door carefully behind herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art that goes with this chapter can be found [here](https://twitter.com/JewishAnime/status/1323361674506629120)!
> 
> For this section I challenged myself to write a montage with absolutely no dialog, because I knew the second I added dialog entire scenes would spiral out of control. It was tough to convey what was going on without my usual favorite tool, but I'm satisfied with what I came up with.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried not to lift tooo much dialog from that one cutscene for this lmao...

It was a rare clear morning in Mor Dhona on the seventh day since Aoife had brought G’raha Tia back from the Crystal Tower. Having fully recovered from their ordeal on the First, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had all gathered on the balcony of Rowena’s House of Splendors to enjoy the fair weather. All, that is, save for the person who had made their leisurely gathering possible.

“Where _is_ she…?” Alisaie groaned, leaning back in her chair. She heaved a bored sigh. “I was hoping she would be here by now…” 

“I would guess she’s attending to the Exarch,” said Alphinaud matter-of-factly, barely looking up from his book. “She’s certainly been keeping a close eye on him, and given his absence I’m assuming our friend is still out of sorts.”

“But I’ve barely seen her leave that room all week!” said Alisaie. “What could they _possibly_ be doing in there all the time?”

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” said Thancred vaguely; he was examining the custom gunblade that the Alliance Leaders had gifted him and didn’t seem particularly invested in the conversation.

“Ugh, don’t give me that…” Alisaie sunk lower in her chair in frustration. “I’m not a child anymore…”

“Pay Thancred no mind,” Y’shtola chimed in, sipping her tea. “In any case, I can assure you that Aoife is _not_ in G'raha Tia's room. The two of them left with Krile early this morning to finish erecting wards around the Crystal Tower, now that the Exarch has the strength to contribute.” 

“You see?” said Alphinaud. “Their outing might be taking longer than anticipated, but I'm certain they'll be back ere long.”

“‘Tis no small thing to weave wards of such strength and magnitude,” Urianger chimed in, brandishing a card from his new starglobe deck for effect. _The Tower_ was emblazoned across what would have been the bottom—the card was upside down. “I’ve no doubt that our fellow archons will have need of a hearty meal on their return.”

“ _That_ much can be arranged!” said Tataru. “I’ve recently learned a new recipe for stuffed highland cabbage, and I’ve been itching to try it out!”

“Cabbage…” Alisaie made a face.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it!” Tataru shot back.

As the scions bickered and bantered among themselves, they hardly noticed the sound of footsteps drawing closer. Alisaie was the first to spot their friends approaching; her expression brightened, and she waved to them excitedly.

“ _There_ you are!” she said.

Among the three of them, Aoife drew the eye first—she was once again sporting her elegant Neo-Ishgardian dress and heeled sandals, and being the tallest, her presence naturally commanded attention. Next to her was Krile, doing her best to keep up with the Viera’s long strides despite the obvious exhaustion on her face. And on Krile’s other side was—

“Uugh…” Krile groaned. “If I expend any more aether, I swear I will blink out of existence. I need a bite to eat.”

The Lalafellin woman made her way over to the table where the twins were sitting and climbed into a vacant chair before letting out another tired sigh.

“Welcome back,” said Alphinaud, closing his book.

Krile nodded to him feebly before turning her attention to Tataru. 

“Tataru—a cup of tea, if you would be so kind? And something sweet…”

“I suppose that means the stuffed cabbage will have to wait…” said Tataru, furrowing her brow. In the next moment she flashed a confident thumbs-up. “I’ll be right on it!” 

As Tataru headed off toward Rowena’s kitchens, Urianger turned toward Aoife. Her ears twitched at the sound of his approach.

“By Mistress Krile’s exhausted state, may I assume that the ward hath been restored?” he asked.

Aoife merely smiled in answer, and turned her head toward the third member of their little party. Urianger followed her gaze.

“Indeed. We succeeded in weaving it anew, albeit with slightly diminished potency than when I had Beq Lugg’s assistance.”

Alisaie and Alphinaud jumped to their feet at the sound of a now-familiar voice, and they rushed over for a better look. Thancred finally took his eyes off his weapon, and Y’shtola gave a performative glance upward from her tea.

G’raha Tia stood before them, sporting the outfit that he and Tataru had designed together, and with his rust-red hair clipped back out of his eyes. At his back was his new staff, the crystal focus sparkling in the sun.

“It is no cause for concern, though,” G’raha continued. “The tower is not easily reached, never mind breached. And even should some few succeed, their presence won’t escape my notice.”

“Excellent,” said Urianger. “Said duty thus discharged, thou art free to go wheresoever thy fancy taketh thee. Upon which note—hast thou perchance come to a decision? The offer remaineth open.” 

The “offer” to which Urianger referred was fresh in Aoife’s mind. He had approached her earlier in the week with a message for the bedridden G’raha Tia: that the Scions would happily welcome him into their ranks on his recovery, should he wish to join them. Though she was quick to relay the message, the Miqo’te had been at a loss for how to respond, and told her he wanted to think on it some before deciding. 

“W-well,” said G’raha, wringing his hands a little and shifting his weight from side to side. “If you’re certain that’s what you… I-I mean, if you think I…”

“Raha, really,” said Aoife, folding her arms. “We’re asking what _you_ want to do.”

“Oh…!” G’raha’s ears stood up at the sound of his name, and he smiled to himself bashfully. “Right…” 

His confidence bolstered somewhat, he took a deep breath and straightened up. 

“As for what I would like to do… I will accept your offer. Henceforth, I shall count myself a Scion of the Seventh Dawn.” He flashed the others a confident thumbs-up and a grin. “G’raha Tia, at your service.”

The Scions all shared looks of relief and joy, to varying degrees. Aoife met their relieved gazes with her own. While she had guessed all along what G’raha’s decision would be, part of her had still worried he might change his mind at the last minute. It was no small thing, after all, to join the ranks of those tasked with maintaining peace in Eorzea. To be a Scion meant throwing oneself headlong into danger on a near daily basis, and she would hardly have blamed him for wanting a break from risking life and limb. But if she knew G’raha as well as she thought she did, the chance to join her on her grand adventures with the Scions—to write for himself the kinds of tales that had first captivated him when they met all those years ago—would have been an offer too tempting to refuse. 

“Come here, let’s have a look at you,” said Alisaie, waving him over. “Tataru’s really outdone herself this time.”

“You think so? I’m quite satisfied with it myself…”

G’raha came down the steps and joined the group proper, tail swishing behind him. The Scions took a minute to look him up and down, taking stock of his new appearance and humming to themselves approvingly. Tataru’s handiwork was peerless as always, and the adventuring outfit she’d designed was flattering despite its baggy cut. It was reminiscent of his Exarch garb, but fresh and functional—perfect for man given a new lease on life. G’raha shuffled a little in place as he waited nervously for his friends’ appraisal, and Aoife put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you and Aoife decided to join us this morning,” Thancred quipped, smirking. “Here I was starting to worry you two might never emerge from his room. Had enough of each other yet?”

“Oh _please,_ Thancred,” Aoife replied without missing a beat. “My ears aren’t the only thing I get from rabbits.”

There came a gasping squeak, and it took the Scions a few moments to identify it as having come from G’raha Tia’s throat—his flushed cheeks and alert ears otherwise gave him away. 

“ _Well_ then,” said Thancred, raising an eyebrow. “Touché.”

“Ugh, how juvenile,” Y’shtola scoffed. “I expected as much from Thancred, but I thought better of _you,_ Aoife. Saying such lewd things with children present…”

“Not you too!!” Alisaie fumed. “I’m not a _child;_ and I’ll have you know I’m—!”

“You didn’t actually…” said Alphinaud nervously, directing his question at Aoife. “I mean, you weren’t… this whole week?”

“Of course not, don’t be silly,” said Aoife, “But I’ll admit I do like Thancred’s version of events.” She glanced over at G’raha and shot him a coy smile. “I doubt I’ll ever tire of watching Raha squirm.”

“O-on second thought, I think I’ll be leaving the Scions posthaste,” G’raha spluttered, his face nearly as red as his hair. “‘Twas nice knowing you all, but I must be going—!”

G’raha turned tail and made to actually take his leave, but Aoife grabbed him by the shoulder and steered him back into her arms.

“You made me promise to bring you on an adventure, didn’t you?” she teased. “You can’t be getting cold feet already!”

“Hey—!”

G’raha couldn’t help laughing in spite of himself, and warmly returned her embrace. Aoife almost felt a little bad for teasing him so mercilessly in front of the others, but to see how broadly he smiled—how comfortable he seemed now, by her side—all thoughts of regret left her mind. She nuzzled the top of his head, and he gave her waist a squeeze in response: a confirmation that no hard feelings were had.

“All joking aside,” said Aoife quietly. “I’m so glad to have you here with me, Raha.”

G’raha closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath—then nodded, as if sure of something.

“To be perfectly honest… there’s nowhere else I would rather be.”

_As a child I used to read faerie tales of knights and rogues. Of a maiden slumbering at the top of a high tower, and the prince’s kiss that woke her. It’s funny, to look back on it—it was always a maiden trapped in the tower, and never a young man waiting to be retrieved. It was always a prince coming to the rescue, and never a brave heroine coming to pry her dearest friend from the jaws of fate…_

_So many of those tales from my youth simply ended with the rescue, the kiss, as though their meeting alone sufficed for a happy ending. But if there’s aught I’ve learned over the years, it’s that a chance meeting or a heroic rescue is rarely ever the end of the tale. More often they serve as mere touchstones on a journey stretching far into the future—the “happily ever after” yet unwritten._

_I don’t yet know where our journey will take us. What trials remain to be overcome, or what new perils will rear their head. Will we find weal or woe? Will we triumph over the forces that would end us, or fall clutching at a future out of grasp?_

_But so long as you’re by my side, for tomorrow and tomorrow—_

_I’ll count myself lucky that the next chapter of our story is one we’ll get to write together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't draw it specifically for this fic, but I did write the fic in such a way that [this art](https://twitter.com/JewishAnime/status/1310836065603694594) now goes with it lmao...
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! \o/ ~~maybe now that this is done i can address some of my other wips lmao~~


End file.
